Adorkable Hockey Captain Mark

Adorkable hockey captain Mark <3 (part 3)

let’s break the ice | mk.l | three

🏒  SYNOPSIS— in which you’re attending you and hockey captain, mark lee, go on your second date.  🏒 GENRE— fluff, humor, crack, college!au, hockey!au 🏒 PAIRING— hockey captain!mark lee x reader 🏒 WORD COUNT— 2.6k 🏒 WARNINGS— sexual innuendos, language, suggestive makeout scene uwu

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this mini-series was too dang cute not to fully-reblog~

Come read how two friends fall further for one-another through mundanely-fun fake-dating scenarios~ 💞 (PART 1 - CAKE TIME)

JUST FRIENDS, a timestamp mini-series (1/5)

[14:35] → [11:13] → [15:37] → [18:00] → [01:21]

you and your best friend jaehyun pretend to date each other because you are a broke university student who likes to take advantage of some deals that require you to be, well, not single.

[14:35] “This is a terrible idea,” Jaehyun muttered to you as you two stood in front of a cake shop near your university campus.

You couldn’t help but elbow him in the ribs, causing him to hiss at you. You only stuck out your tongue in response before saying, “Don’t you dare back out! I’ve already rescheduled this twice because you kept chickening out at the last minute. Do you know how embarrassing is that?”

He scoffed. “You know what’s embarrassing? Asking your best friend to pretend to be engaged to you, just so you can try free wedding cake samples. I believe that’s fraud.”

You gasped dramatically. “Fraud? You take that back!” You puffed out your cheeks. “And this is not fraud! When I get married, I will choose this cake shop for my wedding cake!”

“Married?” he retorted with a small snort. “Married to whom?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t test me. I am currently very stressed and I have an empty stomach.

Jaehyun stuck his tongue right back at you and you rolled your eyes. You felt bad that you were lying to the cake shop’s owner about the nature of your relationship. But you were a broke university student and you were stressed and you needed cake in your stomach. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You had no shame in asking your best friend to be your fake fiancé if it meant that you could fulfill your cravings.

He always went along with your antics for as long as you knew him. And eventually, you began to develop feelings for your best friend that were definitely not platonic. It wouldn’t hurt anyone to indulge yourself a little bit, right?

“Hi!” the owner of the shop greeted you both as you entered. The sweet smell of cakes and fruits lingered in the air and you smiled in excitement. “You must be the 2:30 couple, right? Here for the wedding cake samples?”

“Yes,” you answered as you looked around. “Sorry for rescheduling so many times.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she replied. “Wedding planning is so hectic, so I completely understand. May I ask when is the wedding going to be held?”

Your eyes widened the slightest in panic, not expecting her to ask you anything even though it was a scenario you should have expected. But you thought the bored part-timer would be the one serving you two as he just seemed completely uninterested and bored of his job.

“Uh-”

Luckily, Jaehyun came to your rescue and smoothly said, “We don’t have a set date yet, but we were thinking of having a late spring wedding, around the end of May.”

“Sounds like a wonderful time to hold a wedding,” the older woman replied.

“Yeah, well, my fiancée’s favourite season is spring,” Jaehyun continued with a smile and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer slightly.

“Is it?” the owner asked you, her eyes sparkling.

“O-oh, y-yes,” you replied shakily, your mind still processing the fact that your best friend’s arm was around your waist. Oh, this was so bad for your heart.

“Well, just take a seat. I’ll bring out the samples.”

“Thank you,” Jaehyun said and led you to the counter.

As soon as the owner went in the back, you quickly slapped his arm away and he quickly retracted himself with an ‘ouch!’ and a wounded expression.

“What was that for?” he asked with a pout.

“I should be asking you the same question!” you replied as you sat down, Jaehyun joining you on your right.

“I mean, shouldn’t we act the part properly?” your friend reasoned. “You were about to blow our cover.”

It was your turn to pout – he had a point. But with your budding feelings for your best friend, you were simply not comfortable with him actually acting as your significant other.

“Whatever,” you mumbled.

A few minutes later, the owner had laid in front of you a whole assortment of cakes. Chocolate. Double-chocolate. Vanilla. Red velvet. Oreo. Matcha. And so many more. Oh, how you trembled on the inside — this was heaven.

The owner then left you to be and told you to call her if you two made up your mind. You barely registered her words when you pulled the small plate of strawberry shortcake towards you and immediately took a bite before letting out a small groan of satisfaction.

Jaehyun rested his chin on his palm, looking at you with a hidden dimpled smile. You noticed that he hadn’t touched any of the cakes yet.

“What are you doing?” you asked with a small frown. “Eat! Eat!”

He chuckled and swiped a thumb near your lip, removing the little bit of cream stuck there, before sucking it, leaving you speechless and almost mortified.

“I am,” he replied nonchalantly before taking a bite from the black forest cake.

You quickly turned your attention back to the rows of cakes in front of you, hoping that your hair was long enough to hide your reddening cheeks.

Jaehyun was right.

This was a terrible idea.

joshua and his cartwheeling goals 🤡

◈ adorable and insufferable // joshua hong

joshua x gn!reader, 1.5k+ words

tags: sick fic, fluff, crack, established relationship, joshua makes small snuffly bunny noises when he's sick

warnings: food mention at the end

notes: for his birthday present, i give him a cold. as you can see, i love him very much.

Your boyfriend is sick.

He is, also, an absolutely terrible liar.

That leads you to the situation right now, where you’ve cornered Joshua in the kitchen, hands on your hips, a bunny spa headband pushing your hair back, and it’s not the most intimidating sight but Joshua gulps all the same, eyes darting around the kitchen nervously.

He’s looking for an escape route. You can see it in his eyes, clear as day, so you step even closer, voice dangerously calm as you speak.

“No, keep your eyes on me,” you say, face set into an angry frown. “Shua.”

Joshua looks at you, and tries not to breathe too weirdly. “Um. Y/N?”

You look him up and down, and then slowly fold your arms. “Shua,” you say again. “Are you sick?”

He blinks rapidly, and then has to stop, because it makes his head feel all woozy. “No?” he tries, and then coughs a little. He’ll claim it was out of nervousness, because you look kind of terrifying right now, but your eyes immediately widen at the sound, and he knows he’s busted.

“You are!” Instantly, you lunge for him as he tries to dive past you and escape this interrogation. “Joshua, come back! You’re sick!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I swear I’m not,” he insists, trying to pull away from the iron grip you’ve clasped around his wrist. Resistance is futile, though. You’re not letting him go, now that him and his wellbeing are involved. “Y/N, baby, please, I’m totally fine.”

“No you’re not,” you say firmly, and then begin dragging your whining boyfriend out the kitchen and towards the stairs. 

“I—” He sneezes, then, a loud and wet sneeze that scrapes at his throat and makes his eyes water, and he pauses, shocked. He sniffles, rubbing his nose. “Okay. Maybe I am.”

You shake your head, partly exasperated, partly fond, and continue pulling Joshua up the stairs.

He’s been shuffling around the house looking mildly ill all day, and you’ve been waiting for the right moment to pounce on him and get him up to bed. Because Joshua, when he gets sick, utterly refuses to give in and accept that he’s coming down with something, always waiting until the last moment to finally admit defeat to whatever illness has plagued him this time.

By the time you’re opening the bedroom door and ushering Joshua inside, he’s looking considerably worse than before, face all flushed and eyes watering from the sudden coughing fit he had while coming up the stairs.

“Come on, baby,” you coax, tucking him into bed. You press a hand to his forehead, a little alarmed and a little amused by how quickly he managed to look severely ill during the short walk upstairs. “Sleep.”

“I can still function, you know,” he insists as you pull the covers over him. “I can—I can do things.”

“I’d rather you not,” you say, smoothing down his hair and tucking away a few stray strands. You shake your head in faux disappointment. “I knew you’d get sick from all those days where you went out wearing all those thin layers in winter. What were you thinking?”

Joshua huffs petulantly. “It’s called fashion.”

“It’s called making yourself sick,” you return, and then chuckle at his pout. Leaning down, you press a quick kiss to his forehead, brushing a finger over his cheek fondly. “Now sleep. You’re going to feel way worse tomorrow if you don’t.”

He grumbles, but there’s a small smile on his face as he bids you goodbye and asks you to shut the door properly on the way out.

───────────── 💗

Your boyfriend is very, very self-sufficient. He tries not to bother other people with his struggles and his concerns, but he’s also very terrible at hiding it away when someone asks him directly if everything’s okay.

He’s also really weak in the face of attention.

Which means that while he’s very self-sufficient, the moment you notice he’s unwell and call him out on it, he melts instantly and gets taken over by his sickness so quickly that it surprises you every time.

Slowly, you creak open the bedroom door, peering inside to see Joshua staring blankly up at the ceiling. His head snaps towards you as you walk across the room, but his eyes are all glassy.

“Y/N?” he murmurs, and all he’s said is your name but it’s like he’s speaking through a ball of cotton. 

“Yes, it’s me,” you say, smiling a little, because his eyes positively shine when you confirm it. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you place a damp towel over his forehead, feeling his cheek with the back of your hand, and wince a little at how warm he is. “Goodness me, Shua, you’re burning up.”

“No, I’m not,” he murmurs. “You’re burning up.”

You smile a little, pinching his cheek lightly. “If you were this sick, then why didn’t you say anything, hm? You should’ve told me earlier.”

“I’m not that sick. I can still do stuff,” he says, eyes falling shut just slightly as you begin stroking his hair, a relaxing movement. “Hey, hey, Y/N, watch this.”

“Hm?” You stop stroking his hair, sitting back and waiting patiently. 

There’s a long silence, and then Joshua cracks an eye open to look at you. He looks expectant—well, as expectant as a person with an extremely high fever can look—but when you don’t say anything, a small frown creases his brow.

“Didn’t you see it?”

“See what, baby?”

“The cartwheels. I did cartwheels.”

The statement is so absurd that you think he’s joking, but his face is set into such a serious pout that you can’t help but laugh a little, because there's something about fever-drowsed Joshua that is so adorable.

“You didn’t do any cartwheels, baby,” you say gently, and go back to stroking his hair. “You didn’t even get up.”

Joshua frowns, the pout deepening. “Oh.” His eyes close, and then open again. “I did them in my head, though. I’m sure I did.”

Cute, you think helplessly, unable to stop the smile spreading across the face. “Okay.” You kiss his nose. “I believe you. But I’m gonna go get you something to drink and eat, and then you’re gonna take some meds, okay?”

He makes a small noise of discontent when you get up, and then coughs, giving a pathetic sniffle like a sad little bunny, and you almost want to just stay next to him and never leave his side.

“You’re gonna need to take the meds to get better faster,” you say at the door. “I’ll be back soon, promise. Wait here.”

Joshua makes that sad noise again, but he watches you go. “Okay,” he says, all mumbly. “I promise not to cartwheel away.”

You laugh a little, because good lord, he’s so adorable. “Okay. I’m trusting you, alright?”

“Mhm.”

You close the door and walk down the stairs, shaking your head fondly.

───────────── 💗

It’s only several days later that his fever finally lets up, and he’s well enough to walk around the house once more. You wake up to Joshua in the kitchen, a blanket around his frame, making pancakes.

“Baby?” you ask, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “What are you doing?”

Joshua turns to you, and then grins, eyes crinkling fondly. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says, and deposits the last pancake onto a plate. “I’m making you breakfast, of course. Here. Eat up. Want some french toast too?”

“Wh—huh?” you say, incredibly intelligently, slowly sliding into the seat that, like the gentleman he is, Joshua had pulled out for you. “Why?”

“It’s a thank-you present, obviously,” Joshua says, as he busies himself making french toast. As if the pancakes and spread of fresh fruit and waffles (he cooked waffles too?) aren’t enough. “I’ve been insufferable over the past few days.”

You chuckle a little, thinking of Joshua insisting he can do cartwheels while you try to spoon feed him soup. “Yeah, you have. But I didn’t mind. You’re my boyfriend. Of course I’m gonna put up with you.”

Joshua laughs. “Thank you, Y/N. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be dead without me,” you say, incredibly seriously, and it makes Joshua laugh again. His eyes are still a little puffed up, but he beams at you, all full of life, and it makes you grin too.

“You’re totally right,” he says, and leans over to peck you on the cheek. “I love you.”

You smile, taking hold of his chin and bringing him down to press a longer kiss to his lips. “I love you more.”

Joshua quirks a grin at that, kissing your forehead for good measure before going back to the bread. “Let’s not start that argument again. Eat your pancakes, sweetheart, before they get cold.”

You look over at him as he busies himself making yet more food, and it makes you a little dizzy, really, just how much Joshua loves you. And how much you love him in return. Even when he’s doing cartwheels in his head and insisting he’s doing them in real life.

“Hey, now you’re all better, you can do those cartwheels you kept wanting to do.”

“Really? Should I?”

“Yeah! I bet I can do them better though.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @evasaysstuff @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29

just two people in love 🥹

❖ no such thing as too perfect // jeon wonwoo

wonwoo x gn!reader, 2k+ words

tags: office au, established relationship, fluff, kinda crack, junhui is the best work bestieTM ever, yn is Dramatic and In Love

warnings: none

notes: this was only meant to be like, 1.2k.... idk what happened but im not apologising. also there are a couple of pov switches which i hope make sense!!

“I think I need to break up with him,” you say, and Junhui blinks around a mouthful of salad. 

“Who?” he asks, spraying pieces of feta cheese all over the table, and you wrinkle your nose and brush away a few bits that get too close to you and your bento box. He frowns, and then his eyes widen. “Oh my god, you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo? Why do you need to break up with Jeon Wonwoo?”

You wince as Junhui's loud exclamation rings throughout the office canteen, making several heads turn to look at the two of you. 

“Don't yell it so loud—and why are you saying his name in italics?”

“Because this is Jeon Wonwoo,” Junhui emphasises again, shoving salad passionately into his mouth before carrying on talking. “He's the only one of your boyfriends that I've actually ever approved of. Which is crazy, because Soonyoung introduced him to you, and I've never pinned Soonyoung as a guy that knows boyfriend-material guys.”

You reach over and lower Junhui’s fork, preventing him from eating and talking at the same time. “I don't know,” you sigh. “I just… I don't think this is going to work.”

“What did he do?” Junhui asks. His face morphs into a more serious look. “Do I need to murder him for you?”

“No, I— no! Don't murder him!” you say quickly, shaking your head. “He hasn't done anything wrong. It's just. I think I need to break up with him.”

The grave look melts from Junhui's face, and then he frowns. “You need to break up with him… even though he hasn't done anything wrong?”

“Yes.”

Junhui stares at you, mystified, then snatches back his fork to keep eating his salad. “Okay, so you've gone insane. Nice to know.”

You sigh at Junhui's response, rubbing your temples. 

Whilst it does sound insane for you to break up with Wonwoo even though he's done nothing wrong, in your eyes, it's actually quite understandable. 

Nothing has gone wrong, per se: you've been dating Wonwoo for about ten months now, and everything has been perfect. He's been perfect. 

Maybe… a little too perfect. 

He's always being so gentle and courteous, silently reading your emotions and knowing exactly how you're feeling at any given moment. He knows what you need before you even know that you need it—giving you little cheek kisses to remind you that you're loved, pushing a chocolate bar into your hand when you're all dizzy and tired, hugging you to sleep when you've had a bad day. 

The bento box that you're opening and having for lunch? That was prepared by him too. 

Jeon Wonwoo is just so goddamn perfect, and it worries you. 

“I don't think I'm good enough for him,” you admit whilst Junhui is busily sipping his water. 

It's fascinating how he manages to eat so frantically whilst eating so slowly at the same time, you think idly, as Junhui chokes on the tiny sip he was taking. He sets down the glass, wiping his mouth and blinking at you. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Come on, Junhui, do I really have to say it again?” you complain, beginning to open your bento box. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, and I couldn't believe my ears,” he says, tilting his head sideways. “You? Not good enough for him? Please. That's crazy.”

You make a questioning noise. “You just said that he's the only boyfriend of mine that you approved of.”

“Exactly.” Junhui stabbed his fork in your direction, before going back to shovelling leaves into his mouth. “You're perfect for him, and he's perfect for you. I predicted it from the moment you met.”

“I don't know about me being perfect for him, but he really is just too perfect for me,” you whine. “Him and his stupidly warm eyes and that smile… oh, Junhui, he makes me feel like the most beautiful person in this entire universe.” You look down at your bento box, pouting. “Wonwoo's just so perfect.”

Junhui makes a face. “Gross, but okay. I still don't see your point, though. Wonwoo's perfect, and you're both good enough for each other. I don't see why you think you need to break up with him.”

Still looking down at the bento box, you let out a sigh. All of the food is neatly packed away into the separate compartments, and he's even arranged the sesame seeds on your rice into a little heart. It's an awfully goofy but also an awfully Wonwoo thing to do, and you can feel your heart squeezing painfully in your chest, the longer you stare at it. 

This is not good. You are far too in love with Wonwoo. 

That's what you tell Junhui, and he stares at you with utter disbelief as if you've finally admitted that you really have lost your mind. 

“And what makes you think that he's not far too in love with you?” Junhui asks. “You know, one of the reasons that I approve of Wonwoo is because he's just so so in love with you. Like, almost disgustingly in love with you.”

“What?” You blink at him, before shaking your head. “Junhui, no, this is serious. Wonwoo's just so perfect and I'm so in love with him and—and it's actually getting dangerous now. I've literally fallen in love with him.”

Junhui stares at you for a long moment, wondering whether you're actually being serious about all of this. 

“That's not a bad thing,” he insists, and then chomps on his salad in frustration. “Y/N, that's not a bad thing at all.”

“Yes it is,” you say, despairingly, looking forlorn as you prop your chin on your hand. “I love him too much. It's gonna—it's gonna get too overwhelming, soon, and then he'll start thinking I'm weird, and he'll distance himself from me, and then we'll break up and I should end this before that happens.”

Junhui shakes his head. “I don't think that's true.”

“Yes it is.”

“No it isn't. He won't break up with you.”

“Not yet.”

Junhui looks away exasperatedly, because you're adamant in wallowing in your despair over having to break up with Wonwoo because “he's too perfect” even while quite happily eating the lunch that Junhui knows Wonwoo probably prepared for you. 

It's insane, he thinks, because it's obvious to him that Wonwoo loves you a lot. But he knows you and your negative thinking, and short of Wonwoo walking in here and professing his love to you all by himself, Junhui can't think of anything that could possibly convince you otherwise. 

As he looks past your shoulder to the glass doors of the office canteen, however, he blinks. 

There's a tall man entering the canteen, his dark hair all fluffy and his glasses-rimmed eyes scanning the area, lips pursed into a look that could almost be described as bored. He has his hands in his coat pockets, wearing the most simple casual fit ever, but he exudes such cold model energy that even Junhui blinks again. 

And then he watches as the man catches sight of you and Junhui, and his entire demeanour just softens. 

Junhui bites back a grin. 

Wow. Maybe he’s, like, actually psychic. 

“Wonwoo's here,” he says abruptly, and your head snaps up so fast that he can hear the audible click that sounds in your neck. 

“Where?” 

Junhui doesn't get to say anything, however, because he sees the moment that your eyes clock the tall man that's striding into the canteen, the light catching the frames of his glasses, and watches as you positively melt, in much the same way that the man had done when he saw you. 

He can almost hear every infatuated thought that runs through your mind. 

“Wonwoo,” you breathe, once Wonwoo steps close enough to the table that you and Junhui are eating at. His hair is all fluffy and windswept, and you resist the urge to smooth it down with your fingers. 

“Hello.” Wonwoo bends down, presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You weren't answering your phone.”

“Hm? I didn't get any text notifs from you.” You check your phone, trying to turn it on, only for the screen to remain black. “Oh. Is it dead?”

“I suspected as much,” Wonwoo says dryly, but there's a fondness in his voice as he pulls out a power bank from his pocket. “Here.”

Your eyes light up. “Oh, you're a life saver!” You look up at Wonwoo, smiling at the way his eyes look so warm as he gazes down at you. “Thank you.”

Junhui slurps his water loudly. 

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not sorry at all when the two of you look over at him. “Don't mind me.”

He's grinning mischievously, for reasons that you cannot fathom, and when he leans forward to peer up at Wonwoo with curious eyes, the mischief in his grin only increases. 

“So, Wonwoo, why are you here?”

Wonwoo tilts his head, pushing his glasses up at the same time. “You're Junhui.”

“The one and only,” Junhui says brightly. “I'm Y/N's work bestie. I've heard loads about you.”

You hiss in annoyance, kicking Junhui under the table even as Wonwoo laughs amusedly, placing a hand on your shoulder affectionately. 

“Wen Junhui! Why would you say that?”

“Do you talk about me that often?” Wonwoo asks, and his tone is somewhere between genuinely curious and adoring and you kind of just wanna sit there and listen to his voice forever. 

“Oh, all the time,” Junhui says, eyes gleaming, and you snap your gaze back to him, exasperated. “Y/N loves you so much. I hear about the extent of it every day.”

Wonwoo looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

You kind of want to deny it, but then that would mean lying to Wonwoo, so you don't. 

“Maybe?” you say weakly, cheeks burning as you smile sheepishly up at him. “You're just, uh. Really really lovely. And, um, I kind of love you. A lot.”

Wonwoo laughs, a full and endeared laugh, twinkling with the light of a thousand suns. “I'm glad. Because you're really lovely, and I love you a lot too.”

Your eyes widen, and suddenly it's like it's just you and Wonwoo in the canteen now, him with his hand on your shoulder and those eyes, holding your very soul in place as he just smiles so lovingly and oh God you really do love him. 

“Oh,” you say, soft. “Wonwoo…”

Wonwoo just smiles again. “Anyways, I came by to let you know that I'll be finishing work a bit earlier today, so call me when you're done and I'll drive by to pick you up, okay?”

You nod, mute, stunned by the gentlest words of “I love you” that had left Wonwoo's mouth just seconds before. 

“It was nice meeting you,” Junhui chirps, but Wonwoo doesn't seem to hear, because he's looking down at you again, before swooping in and placing the lightest kiss on your nose and you feel like you could combust on the spot right there. 

“I'll see you later?” he says. 

You nod. “I'll see you later.”

Wonwoo smiles, and then the hand slides off your shoulder and he walks away. 

You watch him go, watch him walk through the tables and then get to the glass doors, where he turns around one last time to wave goodbye before disappearing outside, and really, it's insane how much you love him. 

And how much he loves you, it seems. 

“So. He took time out of his own lunch break and came all the way here to give you a charger because he knew that you'd forgotten one and to tell you that he's picking you up later?” Junhui says, making you reluctantly turn back to him. “Y/N. If this doesn’t make you see just how in love with you Wonwoo is, then I’m gonna kick you.”

“Hey, no need for violence,” you say, raising an eyebrow, and Junhui pulls a face. 

“So do you see it or do you not?”

You look over your shoulder again, out at the doors. Wonwoo’s no longer there, but you can still imagine the imprint of his warmth, lingering like the softest lavender scent over the entire area. 

“Maybe I do,” you say, all wistful and dazed, a smile on your face. “Isn’t he just so perfect?”

Junhui grins, and makes use of your distracted state to steal a carrot stick from your lunch, crunching on it loudly.

“Perfect and in love with you,” he points out. “So do you still feel like you need to break up with him?”

“Hm?”

You blink, eyes still all starry from your few minutes of interacting with your boyfriend, his soft smile etched into your mind. It takes a moment for Junhui's words to register, but then they do, and you can't help but laugh. 

“Oh. Oh, no. He and I are perfect.”

Junhui grins. He really is a psychic. 

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @thedensworld @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @amxlia-stars @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect

adorkable hockey captain Mark <3 (part 2)

let’s break the ice | m.l | two

🏒  SYNOPSIS— in which your college’s hockey team crashes your lunch plans after practice and you have to get away before dying of embarrassment 🏒 GENRE— fluff, humor, crack, college!au, ice hockey!au 🏒 PAIRING— ice hockey captain!mark lee x reader 🏒 WORD COUNT— 1.5k 🏒 WARNINGS— sexual innuendos made; povs switching during the same scene; cursing 

🏒 AUTHOR’S NOTE— oh shit, does that say part two?? l m a o

y’all asked for it, so here it is! i’m turning this into a mini-series featuring random snapshots of mark with his love interest! no regular updates, the parts are just going to be randomly uploaded as we go. surprise surprise! i have a couple of moments planned already, so stay tuned! (i’m still working on the requests i have left as well as my other wips, please be patient with me!)

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“Blind sided by a feeling he’s never known” trope 🤭 (Part 3)

♡ Reblogging from my shadow-reader days ♡

iii. breaking up is hard to do

prev • masterlist • next

words: 4.8k

warnings: none

——————————

You and Kai still hadn’t kissed since Yeonjun’s party months ago, when you were two weeks into your fake relationship.

That thought crossed your mind from time to time, and it crossed your mind again while you sat in the bleachers with Aeri and Yizhuo, watching your school’s soccer team go up against their rivals from AG High. It was the final match of the season, AG were the defending champions, and you were losing.

Until Kai scored a goal, putting both teams neck-in-neck. Even amidst the chaos of all his teammates huddling around him, cheering, and ruffling up his hair, his eyes found yours instantly. You beamed.

Throughout the game he’d missed every goal he attempted, and you could tell he was getting frustrated. His brows were low and his jaw was clenched, and he barely glanced in your direction. Now, he was glowing so bright you’d think they’d already won the championship.

“Did you see how Kai looked straight at you?” Aeri whispered to you, a wicked grin on her face.

“Shut up,” you whispered back.

They did win the championship, and Kai scored the winning goal.

All around you, the students in the bleachers erupted into cheers. Kai’s captain tackled him to the ground and his teammates piled on top of him, yelling and laughing. You let them celebrate on their own for a while, but when the other players’ friends and partners started making their way down to the field, you had to follow them.

The second he saw you he pushed past his teammates and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. He was sweaty and out of breath, but you didn’t care.

“The MVP of the championship finals doesn’t even get a kiss?” Yizhuo teased.

Pointedly, you cupped Kai’s face in your hands and gave him a peck on the lips.

“Well, hello there,” he grinned, kissing the tip of your nose. His eyes shone with pride, and he couldn’t stop smiling as he basked in the glory of their win.

“That’s it?” Aeri baited, egging you on with a mischievous smirk.

“Damn. I remember when you couldn’t walk down a school corridor without finding Kai making out with someone inside an empty classroom,” Yeonjun joked.

You tensed up, praying Kai hadn’t noticed. You didn’t know if your heart could handle having to kiss him again properly. It took you two full weeks to get over the first one.

“Y/N’s different,” Kai said calmly, his hands still on your waist, speaking to the group but looking only at you.

The justification you’d both been giving all this time for the lack of PDA in your relationship, as opposed to all his previous flings, was that you were shy. And it was true. Sure, you flirted with people a lot, but you weren’t ever one to kiss and tell, and people knew that.

He had felt you tense up after all. You could tell from his eyes, sweet and worried and reassuring. Maybe it would’ve been less painful to just kiss him instead of having to listen to him call you different while he looked at you like that, knowing it was a lie.

——————————

You kissed (for real) the very next week.

For the first time that weekend, you were going to spend the afternoon at Kai’s house instead of him coming over to yours. You vaguely remembered visiting his house before, most likely for a party a couple of years back, but it didn’t look all that familiar to you when you arrived.

His parents were out of town, and you had expected him to seize the opportunity to throw a wild party because of it. But all he wanted to do was order fast food and have you over for a movie night, and you weren’t complaining. He had promised you that movie projector system in his basement all those months ago, right?

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Kai said, opening the front door and inviting you in. He realised the insensitivity of his words the second he said them, wincing slightly and giving you an apologetic look. You shrugged it off.

There was nothing humble about his abode. You were fairly sure his foyer alone, large and cavernous and grand, dwarfed your entire house. The long driveway bracketed by gorgeous flowered hedges and the front garden complete with a koi pond and waterfall feature had already rendered you speechless long before you stepped over the threshold.

You found such ostentatious displays of wealth gaudy as all hell, and you felt the same way about Azeri and Yizhuo’s houses. It was a wonder any of them, let alone all three of them, could turn out as normal as they did.

“Do you want a house tour, or-” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. He’d shrunken into himself, eyes glued to the floor and his broad shoulders rolled inwards, somehow appearing small despite his height and impressive stature. Awkwardness was a new look on him, at least as far as you knew.

“That’s alright,” you said. You actually did want a house tour (and to see his infamous basement, complete with movie projector system, retro arcade games, and mini bowling lane) but that seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. “Let’s just go to your room.”

So he led you up a coiling marble staircase with dark wood handrails, sturdy and polished, down a long corridor with more rooms than you could count. More rooms than were in your entire block of flats, it appeared. He looked embarrassed, almost ashamed, as you arrived at his bedroom.

When he finally pushed open the door and let you in, he couldn’t stop watching your expression. You knew this because you could feel his piercing gaze as you glanced around his room.

It was massive, more than thrice the size of yours, with an attached en-suite bathroom, walk-in wardrobe, and private balcony. He had a king-sized bed, a small sofa by the wide windows, and a large desk complete with a full gaming PC setup. Half of his bed was covered in stuffed animals.

“I like your plushies,” you said, before you noticed the wall above his desk.

Like he’d mentioned to you all those months ago, he had put up a collage of pictures of him and his friends, notes, letters, and the like. But there were pieces of memorabilia that were very familiar to you.

The first one to catch your eye was the photo you took of him at the botanical gardens, the one with the red leaf over his face as he stared mysteriously at the camera from behind it.

The second one was of you, also from the botanical gardens, except you weren’t aware it existed. You were facing away from the camera, a broad smile just barely visible in your side profile, your eyes wide while you admired the autumn leaves. When had he taken that?

You looked closer.

The receipt from Stackies, where he had paid for you and refused to let you pay him back. A recipe for crepes you’d scrawled on the back of a napkin for him one night while you cooked together for your little brothers. A polaroid of you and him taken on the field after his championship game, with your hands cupping his face and his hands on your waist. You were both looking at each other, paying no mind to the camera.

When he said you were different.

“This is a cute picture,” you complimented casually, trying to sound like your heart wasn’t aching. “Can I have it?”

“No! That’s my copy,” he refused. Ah, the perils of non-digital photography. He reached over your shoulder and pulled a different polaroid off of his wall, handing it to you. “Here, you can have this one.”

The polaroid was from Yizhuo’s party a while back, after most of the guests had gone home and you were helping with the clean-up. Kai was preoccupied with gathering used cups into a bin bag and you were trying to get his attention. You had on Kai’s student athlete jacket and were tugging on his sleeve.

It took a while, but you eventually remembered why: you had found an unbelievably embarrassing love note in one of the cups, perhaps written as a drunken confession. The folded piece of paper, a torn receipt stained with whatever had previously occupied the cup, was pinned between your fingers.

The photo captured the exact moment he turned around to look at you, his eyes falling to the sight of his jacket on your shoulders. The smile on his face was soft while yours was excited, wanting so urgently to make him laugh. Was that really how you looked at each other?

“Thank you,” you said, still studying the picture, running your thumb over its glossy surface. Finally, you turned back to Kai, who now seemed even more embarrassed than he was earlier.

“Yeah, don’t mention it. What do you want for dinner?”

——————————

You were drowning. In a mountain of stuffed animals.

“Can we move some of these to the floor?” you asked, moving a blue shark plush aside so you could lean back against the pillow behind you.

“No, they’re my children,” Kai said. “Why are we watching Ratatouille, again?”

“It’s a good film,” you answered, hugging one of his many teddy bears to your chest.

He laughed. “Okay, I guess I just thought we’d watch something more ro- conventional.”

You expected to be nervous, but you weren’t. It felt surprisingly familiar, lying on Kai’s bed with him as rain battered his closed windows. When he first hit play on his laptop, you two were barely touching. By the time the film ended, his arm was around your shoulder and your head was on his chest.

“That was a good film,” he admitted, somewhat begrudgingly.

“See? I told you.”

He was about to respond when a loud crack of thunder ripped through the room, scaring you half to death. You jolted at the noise. Somehow, neither of you noticed just how much heavier the rain had gotten. It was storming now, with howling winds and lightning repeatedly flashing across the dark sky, even though it was still early in the evening.

How were you going to get home now?

You pulled yourself out of the bed — which was difficult to do given the rocky terrain of stuffed animals on which you struggled to find purchase — and over to the window. Kai was right behind you, drawing his heavy cream curtains back with the push of a button. Automated curtains, you mused. Both interesting and wholly unnecessary.

“Maybe you should spend the night here,” he suggested, frowning at the way the rain fell in thick heavy sheets and the way the wind whipped so ferociously that even the biggest trees wobbled.

“I can’t leave my brothers by themselves,” you said, shaking your head, your fingers curled tightly around his windowsill. “The power in our building always goes out during storms and they get scared.”

Kai paused to think. “It’s still early,” he began calmly, trying to soothe you. “Let’s wait and see if the storm lightens up.”

He tried to distract you for the next hour, even offering you the house tour he so desperately wanted to avoid giving earlier in a bid to take your mind off the storm, but nothing worked. You weren’t really listening to him the entire time, constantly fidgeting with your phone and glancing out the window.

“It’s calmer now,” you mumbled to him, biting your nails. That was a bad habit from your childhood you’d mostly gotten over. Mostly.

The winds were nowhere near as ferocious as before, and the lightning and thunder had stopped. The rain was still heavy, however, and the storm was only going to worsen later that evening according to the forecasts.

“How are your brothers?” Kai asked quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his side to comfort you.

“Scared. The power’s coming and going,” you replied, your phone pressed to your ear. If you weren’t so anxious, his gesture would’ve given you butterflies.

“I’ll send for a car while the road conditions are good,” he offered, half looking at you and half watching the rain outside. “They can spend the night here.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. Daeseong, the elder of the two, was only seven. “They’re kids. They’ve never taken a taxi without me before.”

“Not a taxi. I’ll call my driver,” he answered immediately, without a hint of hesitation.

You were speechless as he took out his own phone and began tapping away at it, only snapping back into action a full ten seconds later to call your brothers again.

Too anxious to talk, you passed the time helping Kai work on his current Lego project while he sang excerpts of songs you both liked to keep your mind off of the storm. As much as he could, anyway. He could see it in your eyes even when you tried to hide it from him.

Your brothers both arrived in one piece just as the storm began to pick up again. You fed them the leftover pizza for dinner while Kai set up the guest room, even changing the bedsheets for them.

He returned from upstairs once he was done and you were just finished with the dishes. “We can put them to bed now,” he said.

We? We? WE?

You ushered the two boys upstairs, with Kai staying silent as they squealed at the size of the house and how fancy all the furniture was. He watched on with amusement as you ordered them into the bathroom to change into their pyjamas and wrangled them into bed.

“This bed is softer than mine at home,” Daehyun whined. “I want this one.”

You shoved one of Kai’s stuffed animals into his arms so you wouldn’t have to explain the economics of quality mattresses to a four-year-old. He’d been complaining incessantly earlier about how much bigger Kai’s kitchen was compared to your own.

“I packed Daehyun’s bag for him. He’s too young to do it himself,” Daeseong told Kai proudly, eager to be complimented. You stifled a laugh, watching them from afar.

“You did? Good job, little man,” Kai praised, ruffling the boy’s hair. He was always so sweet with them.

The second your brothers were asleep and you were back in Kai’s room, you threw yourself at him with enough force that he stumbled back momentarily.

“Woah. Everything okay?” he asked with a light laugh, hugging you back.

“Yeah. Thank you,” you mumbled into the front of his hoodie before letting him go. Looking up at him, too exhausted to feel embarrassed, your gaze shifted down to his lips. “I want to kiss you, Kai.”

Again, just like at Yeonjun’s party nearly three months ago, he didn’t bat an eyelid. He placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you towards him. “Me too.”

You kissed him gently, tangling your fingers in his hoodie strings just to give your hands something to do. You remembered why you needed two weeks to get over the last kiss now; he was addictive, everything about him.

It was a bad idea to kiss him for any reason other than to add credibility to your fake relationship in front of witnesses — you knew that logically. That’s why you’d refused him the very first day he’d come over to your house. Then again, if logic was your strong suit you wouldn’t have been in a fake relationship with him to begin with.

When he pulled you back in for another, you didn’t stop him. His lips were so soft, his hands were so warm, and his cologne was just strong enough to be pleasant without being overpowering.

Like before, the way he kissed was slow and patient, not a shred of urgency detectable in his motions. He tilted your head back to deepen the kiss with a low hum, reaching under the hem of your jumper.

Not for the first time, you clammed up, splaying your fingers across his chest and pushing him away.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“I- I haven’t-” you were too nervous to finish your sentence, settling for gesturing vaguely to his bed instead despite knowing he was the last person who would make fun of you over something so trivial.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to,” he said. His ears were red.

By the time both of you wound down, the storm had eased up considerably. The drumming of the rain was still heavy enough to be audible through his closed windows and heavy button-operated curtains, but in the absence of vicious thunder or wind it was more soothing than frightening.

With Kai next you, though, you didn’t think you would be scared even if those were present. He had offered to sleep downstairs in the living room like the gracious host he was, but you’d wrapped your fingers around his wrist and asked him to stay.

And he did, turning off the lights and joining you under his duvet.

“Thanks for letting us stay over,” you whispered for the fourth or fifth time that night, resting your head on his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, slow and steady against your ear, above the backdrop of the rhythmic rainfall.

He kissed the crown of your head. “Of course.”

——————————

Kai didn’t understand how he went two and a half months without kissing you, because now that he had (and not for show this time) it was all he wanted to do. Every time he met you at your front door so you could walk to school together he was filled with an overwhelming urge to feel your lips against his.

“Daeseong and Daehyun love the plushies,” you told him on Monday morning. He’d let both of them pick their favourites from his collection and take them home the night of the storm. As you were showing him pictures of your brothers with their new toys, he caught a glimpse of the polaroid he gave you in your phone case.

His friends had asked him more than once why he never invited you over before then, or why the two of you were so much less physical than he normally was with other people. He usually just brushed it off with a comment about commute times or your shyness and left it at that, as unbothered and nonchalant as ever.

But when another soccer player in the year above him asked him if you were as good in bed as you were at flirting, Kai punched him in the face and got sent home early. No one ever mentioned the subject again.

“What’s with 53? Why does he keep glaring at me?” you asked Taehyun one day when he came to the bleachers for a water break.

Taehyun turned around. “Who, Hangil? Kai almost broke his nose. Didn’t he tell you?”

“What? No. Why?” you asked. Kai didn’t have a violent bone in his body; he hardly ever raised his voice, let alone a hand. Taehyun just grinned cryptically and returned to the field.

For the last two weeks, Kai hadn’t been able to get that night out of his head. The way you’d rushed to hug him after your brothers fell asleep, the sleepiness in your voice when you declared you wanted to kiss him, how naturally you nestled into his side as you slept.

If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be perfectly happy to go three months without getting laid just because of a fake relationship with someone he barely knew, he would never have believed them.

You continued coming to his soccer practices when you could, spending your afternoons doing homework by the field until you absolutely had to leave, and he continued coming over to your house for dinner to hang out with you and your brothers.

But something had changed, and you were acting differently.

He realised that when he kissed you in the bleachers after his practice on Friday. You were kissing him back, your hands in his hair like you didn’t mind his after-practice grossness (you never did), but he could tell you were distracted.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling away and reaching for your hands.

“You need to stop kissing me like that, Kai,” you sighed, staring down at your intertwined hands, at his thumb running soothingly over your knuckles. “I can’t- I can’t keep doing this.”

His heart sank. He stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

“I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not anymore. You say this is just for your friends, but you put my brothers to bed and have photos of us up on your bedroom wall,” you mumbled, your voice so soft he could barely hear you. “I know I shouldn’t have kissed you that night, but at least at the start I could tell when you were pretending. I can’t anymore, and if we keep going like this I’ll break my own heart.”

His thumb stopped. “I- I like spending time with you,” he said hesitantly, his heart pounding in his chest.

That was the understatement of the century and he fucking knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say what he refused to admit was true.

“That’s not an answer, Kai. Either we date for real or we break it off. I won’t be mad no matter what you choose,” you promised, shaking your head and pulling your hands out of his grasp. Your fingers were trembling. “But not knowing hurts too much. I’m sorry.”

The thought of you hurting, hurting because of him, sent a stab of pain through his heart. He didn’t know either. He didn’t even know what you were apologising for.

“Can we at least get to our 100 day anniversary?” he asked, his face twisting at his own demand before he’d finished his sentence like he was already aware he was being selfish. You stayed silent and reached for your bag.

His friends were right; he was immature. He wasn’t ready for this. He wanted nothing more than to grab you, hug you, and tell you he loved you. But he couldn’t.

What he ended up saying was, “Can I walk you home, please?”

An agonising few seconds passed of you looking at him without saying a word. He couldn’t read your expression, but it was the same one you’d had on at his championship game when he chose not to kiss you.

Finally, you spoke. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

He walked you home in silence. Your hands kept brushing accidentally as you walked side-by-side on the narrow pavement, neither of you daring to hold the other’s. Normally when you reached your house he’d give you a kiss goodbye. This time, you headed inside without even so much as a glance in his direction.

——————————

That was just about the last conversation Kai wanted to have with his friends before he talked to you.

After your fight (it felt wrong to call it a fight when neither of you had even raised your voices, but he didn’t know how else to describe it) on Friday, he hadn’t spoken to you at all over the weekend.

But he still picked you up from your front door on Monday and you both showed up at school together as if nothing had happened. In front of your friends he still wrapped his arm around your waist, and you still laughed at all of his jokes.

He pulled you aside at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Can we talk? Please?” he asked in a whisper, half-expecting you to just walk away.

You didn’t. “When?”

“After my practice today.”

Although you agreed then, you didn’t show up after school. He kept glancing over at the bleachers searching for you, trying to spot your trademark Rick Astley QR code laptop sticker throughout his practice. Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t playing very well.

“Kai! Get your act together or get off the field!” his captain shouted the second their third practice game ended as everyone else scattered for a quick break.

Kai gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut to keep his sweat from dripping into them, and bowed in apology before scurrying away.

“Why are you so out of it today?” Taehyun asked, frowning as he handed Kai his water bottle.

“I have a stitch,” Kai lied, pretending to double over in pain.

His captain’s call-out worked. Once he was convinced you weren’t going to come, he stayed focused enough on the game to not be singled out again. He wasn’t looking over at the bleachers at all, fighting every urge in his being not to think about you.

So he didn’t notice you when you turned up right when his practice ended until Beomgyu pointed you out.

“Where’s your stuff?” Kai asked as he jogged over to you. Really? That was the riveting question he was opening with?

“I went home first to get dinner ready,” you replied, explaining your lack of school bag and binder.

You had left and come all the way back to school just for him. For some reason, that made him feel worse. He sat down beside you, dabbing at the sweat on his forehead, still breathing heavily from practice. He couldn’t tell if you were angry or not.

“Uh- wait.”

He fumbled for his phone and opened his Notes app, looking for the two paragraph-long sappy idiotic stream of consciousness he’d written the previous night. His eyes glossed over it, and he understood then why his teachers were always yelling at him for not proofreading his essays.

“Kai,” you called, watching him stare at his phone screen. “I thought you wanted to talk.”

“Fuck. Yeah. I-” he looked at your face, then back at his phone. You didn’t seem angry or nervous or upset, just calm. Your hands were folded patiently in your lap, not fidgeting at all. He wanted to hold them.

I feel the same way. Why was that so hard for him to spit out?

“You’re right,” he forced out instead through gritted teeth. “Let’s break things off.”

You closed your eyes and turned away. I take it back, he screamed at you in his head.

“Why were you so nice to me?” you asked after a few seconds of silence, your voice starting to shake. “You did things you didn’t have to, things no one else was privy to. What was the point of all of that?”

Down on the field, his teammates were all packing up their things and getting ready to head home. Beomgyu stood around watching you and Kai talk, but Taehyun eventually managed to drag him away.

He glanced back down at your hands, now curled into loose fists in your lap, so he wouldn’t have to look at your expression.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N, but I’m not sure what else you expected out of this,” he said, his heart beating so fast he felt physically ill. “I hope we can still be friends.”

All he could think about was the pancake doodles on your calendar. When you took that photo of him at the botanical gardens. How you hummed quietly under your breath as you washed dishes together. Like you’d said, things no one else was privy to. The moments belonged only to you and him.

“I really liked you, you know,” you mumbled, picking at your nails and trying not to cry. “Before all of this started.”

It hit him like a freight train. You liked him? More worryingly, did he on some level know that in his subconscious? Had that been the reason he’d chosen to ask you, of all people, to pretend to date him? Had he used you?

“What-”

“I spent the last three months trying to figure out if you felt the same,” you told him, turning your phone over in your hand and unintentionally flashing him the polaroid in your phone case. He made the mistake of glancing down at it, at the smile on your face immortalised in the flimsy frame. How you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

“I guess I don’t have to wonder anymore,” you muttered.

It wasn’t like him to be speechless, but for all the words he was screaming at you in his head, he couldn’t get his vocal cords to cooperate.

He watched in silence as you strode across the field, taking long, brisk steps like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough. It was a cold night and you were just in your school uniform, and he wanted nothing more than to give you his jacket.

You had granted him a second chance and he tore it apart right in front of you. Why? All because he was too afraid to admit he liked you back?

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3